Mirror Reflections
by porangi
Summary: What does DIO think of when he commits homicide?
1. Content & Disclaimer

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

 **Chapter 1: Dario Brando**

"This one reeks worst than puke! I've never met a man so vile!"

\- Robert E. O. Speedwagon

 **Chapter 2: Danny**

"You don't have a resolve, or a proud soul, or anything like that!"

\- Vanilla Ice

 **Chapter 3: George Joestar Part I**

"Just like you, his mother's dead as well!"

\- George Joestar (JJBATAS)

 **Chapter 4: Jonathan Joestar Part I**

"I'll take him down once and for all, and I'll do it fair and square!"

\- Dio Brando

 **Chapter 5: George Joestar Part II**

"I reject my humanity, JoJo!"

\- Dio Brando

 **Chapter 6: Jonathan Joestar Part II**

"He's... dead..."

\- Dio Brando

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER***

 **I DO NOT OWN JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE (the series belongs to Araki Hirohiko-sensei) _and_ I DO NOT OWN JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE ABRIDGED SERIES (JJBATAS)! ****ALL QUOTES ARE FOUND VIA ENGLISH SUBBED VIDEOS AND OTHER WEBSITES** **! Please watch and support the official release~**


	2. Chapter 1: Dario Brando

The house always smelt of dense alcohol mixed in with an odd scent of garbage. Rather than a house, it was more of a pig sty. Dirty dishes stacked up on the sink, smelly laundry thrown at the corner of the walls. Flies and gnats levitated around freely like the busy streets of London.

By the window, light poured in. The rays inspected the table. Empty glass bottles lay around idly, they gleamed and glistened. Further left, a obese, fat old man with a long white beard lolled on the old wooden table. His mouth gaped open wide, drool streaming down. In his hand, a near empty alcohol bottle.

Long ago, Dio would have pinched his nose from the strong scent of alcohol and the dizzy effect affecting his brain would suffer. But having lived long with this fool, it became a norm. No nose pinching, no dizziness and no nausea.

Dio hated it - How his body had come to familiarize the alcohol both he and his deceased mother despise.

His father begin to rise from the table. A vehement cough erupted. The bottle in his hand fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of shiny shards.

Dio frowned.

Another mess he had to clean up.

Dio approached his father, his brows furrowing in worry.

"F-father! Your cold is acting up again! Take this medicine, it'll make you better."

Dio unwrap his fingers. A small white folded paper in the palm of his hands.

With cloudy eyes and shaking hands, he took the medicine without a violent complain or a demand for more alcohol. Mornings in the wee hours, Dario's head was still in the clouds of alcoholic reverie. Dio easily discerned that flaw.

And with that, make use of it.

After all, what other use can an unproductive swine of Dario's caliber can contribute?

 ** _Zero._**

Dario greedily wolfed down the medicine with wine, Dio gently patting on his back as a filial son would to a ill bodied father. A tender smile beaming on his handsome face.

"There, there…" he said.

Drink all the poison I've bought for you and die soon. Yes, take it all in…

* * *

Dario lied on the bed. Beads of cold perspiration rolled down his skin.

Snow lightly fell onto the face of earth, blanketing the bleak streets in a coat of white. The door clicked and opened, his son is home.

"I've got your medicine."

"Never mind the medicine, where's my wine?"

Dario was impatient. Looking closer, his bloodshot eyes have gotten worse - probably due to the fact that he's at death's door soon.

Dio pulled out a glass of wine bottle from his coat. Promptly, Dario snatched it from his grasps, like the primitive animal he is, chucking the red liquid down. Dio nonchalantly go into the kitchen to fix a glass of water for his 'medicine'.

Less than a few minutes he had gone, a rough cough echoed loudly.

A wicked smile perched on his alabaster face.


	3. Chapter 2: Danny

Dio grimaced.

His eyes red and stinging. Though the ping to wreck and throw the plush furniture in his room was overwhelming, he repressed it.

If he were to throw a tantrum now, all his efforts will come to nought! It's all because of him!

Of all people… Of all people, it was the fool Jonathan that bruised him! Jonathan of all people!

Dio grabbed the back of the chair, squeezing tightly. Crack! Scars formed where Dio touched.

Jonathan. Jonathan. Jonathan. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon. Jonathon.

From the corners of his eyes, a dog appeared into view. An ugly, disgusting slobbering canine.

Danny.

* * *

The grandfather clock struck 12.

A brown rope hanging from his hands.

The Joestar family's guardian angel stared down at him. Guardian angel, he humphed. If there guardian angel exist, why didn't the angel protect his mother? Prevented her from committing suicide? What's the use of a guardian angel? They're fake and fictional. After all, they let evil in and live a comfortable life comparable to that of a prince.

Dio smirked and raised his chin.

The angel has abandoned them.

Danny's dog house is in the garden.

Thinking about it, Danny starts with a D. His father, Dario, starts with a D as well... Other than sharing his rancid blood, he shared the same Ds. Worse, a measly dog is named after D too.

Danny's asleep. Front legs pawing the ground.

Dio untangled the thick strings.

Danny's ears perked up.

Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. _Kill._

Dio remembered a wine crate in the shed. The maids have forgotten to dispose of it when the new shipment arrived. And it's the perfect fit for a dog of Danny's caliber too…

The flaxen haired teenager carried the crate with relative ease. He opened the furnace and tossed it. When the groundskeeper wake up for duty, it'll have to burn to death. At the moment, he'll still be in 'school'.

A vile grin slipped onto his face.

How about it Jonathan Joestar! An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth! You reaped what you sow, **_Jonathan_**!


	4. Chapter 3: George Joestar

George Joestar is like the father he never had.

There are too many differences between Mister Joestar and his failure-of-a-father.

Mister Joestar is rich.

Dario is dirt poor.

Mister Joestar is a gentleman.

Dario is an putrid alcoholic.

Mister Joestar is educated.

Dario is a waste of space.

The latter does not even come close to Mister Joestar's level.

At first, the only thoughts were how to use the elder Joestar. After all, he earned himself a unique name in the upper classmen - The Aristocrat Saint. George Joestar is known for his virtue and kindness that stretch to the unworthy people of the slums of England. He and his deceased wife (before her time came) made daily visits to various orphanages, animal shelters and charity events.

Or it could all be just a front.

Either ways, Dio could make use of his kindness.

"Ah, Dio, you're here!" said the widower.

There was an empty chair beside him. They were only separated by a white stone table. Outside, he can see young Jonathan playing with that damn dog.

"Take a seat."

Dio compiled.

"Lord Joestar, what is it that you want to speak about?"

"Dio…"

Dio was nervous. Had the golden aged geezer discovered his plan? Or maybe that he was ostracizing his own flesh and blood? He's going to get kicked out.

Despite so, Dio remained calm.

There's no way he could've found out!

"You're already 16 years old, have you given thought on your career?"

Dio blinked.

"M-My career?"

"Yes, your career. Dio, if you don't have a career in mind, it's fine."

"Oh, no, Lord Joestar. I've been thinking about it for quite a long time. I…"

For once, Dio doesn't have the answers.

Career? He was too busy with his plan to think further ahead. He must have forgotten about it too.

"Lord Joestar, what do you suggest?"

Hmph, not that it matters much.

George shut his eyes and stroke his moustache.

The maid entered the porch with a mobile tray table decorated with fragrant Jasmine tea, biscuits and cakes. She softly and neatly laid the dishes and teaset on the table, asking Dio is he would like to have sugar in his tea (to which he replied with a 'no' in mock sincerity) and retreating back into the mansion.

He opened his eyes.

"The reason why I became a businessman is to contribute back to society." he started, Dio wondered why he did as he sipped on the fresh Jasmine tea.

"My great grandfather told me the lives of the unfortunate people, the life my ancestor lived as a poor commoner before he raked up fortune. When I was old enough to venture off on my own, I went down to the ghetto and… was horrified. I who was born into riches spared from the harshness of the denizens there!"

The atmosphere became grim.

Dio, who was starting to forget about the hardships he had to endured, remembered the days in the house filled with the stench of alcohol and the ruthless cold seasons where thousands died every single day.

He hadn't completely forget about it - the need for survival.

He rigidly clenched his fist.

"With the finance I've gained, hopefully, I can right this wrongful world as much as I can!"

Dio stared at him, bewildered.

He only thought of George Joestar as the misguided man of mercy and justice. A man so easily clouded that he'd let his own son suffer at the hands of Dio without knowing the truth… Now the man in front of him had an odd expression.

It was a fierce explosion of pride, resolution and charisma! His ocean green eyes shimmered intensively.

"Dio, I hope this will shed some light for you."

George Joestar's facial muscles returned into his usual gentleness mixed in strictness.

Dio blinked again.

He realised he'd been holding onto the teacup for quite a long time.

"For now, let's enjoy the view, Dio." he said affectionately, the same tone whenever he is pleased with Jonathan.

Dio widened his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, Dio genuinely smiled.

"Yes, the weather is rather nice today."

* * *

Today, again, he fed Father some poisonous medicine.

It's the same one.

The same Asian poison bought from the nasty Asian man, Wang Chen.

Dio gulped the wine down fierce as if in a competition.

He gazed at the small white paper in his palm. The Chinese medicine.

Snow frolicked tenderly down from the sky, kissing his exposed cheeks. Funny, Dio hated Winters. The snow even more so. Since everyday, when Winter comes, he had to strive for survival. He had to work his fingers off, he had to gather firewood, he had to shovel the snow from the door, he had to stay healthy, he had to earn for a single meal, he had to survive…

All these time, he remembered, he wished to the heavens to take away that damned less than an animal person. Just that one person, each winter.

He prayed that he'll die and set free both his mother and his son.

He prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed.

But it never come true.

And during that one winter, she decided to kill herself.

That was the wrong wish granted.

And now…

Dio glared at the wine bottle and threw it to the side with such force that the lamp light had a dent when it clashed and shattered.

A stray dog walked up to him. It's adorable eyes looking at him.

A vein popped up from Dio's forehead and he mercilessly kicked it. Dogs are no better than slaves who've thrown away their pride for mere scraps! Filthy mongrels! The dog whimpered and scampered with its tail between its hind legs.

Dio take another look at the medicine in his hand.

For sometime, just the snow moved and waltzed around idly, dazely. It landed on his fancy shoulder pads, the cobbled road and freezing river.

George Joestar popped up in his mind. The once vigorous Master of the Mansion bedridden, tucked under layers of blankets and atop fluffy pillows soaked in his perspiration. His rich coloured hair has now been reduced to varying shades of gray and dark strands.

Yet, he never let the pain and weakness show in his eyes - just the tinge of odd and unfamiliar emotion whenever he and Jonathan visit him. Dio always felt that tiny speck of warmth in his heart when he's around, after having that talk on his future well-being.

It was odd.

At first he was uncomfortable, it's an alien emotion, then he slowly got used to it and reveled in that strangeness. Just a little.

Dio bit his lip and pocketed the little white package.

Ah, he might hate the snow again.


End file.
